The Reluctant Mother Hen
by Lavender and Hay
Summary: Mr Bates leaves for war and Anna is in a mess. Bates/Anna, Carson/Hughes. One-shot.


**Excuse mildly depressing opening: I went to see Never Let Me Go yesterday and haven't quite recovered from it. **

He had gone. She couldn't quite believe it even as she watched the car she knew was carrying him trundle away down the drive. The morning was cold and white-ish grey and the black auto mobile stood out boldly against the pale backdrop until it was a mere dot in the distance and was still visible as it turned the far corner; finally obscuring it from sight. He had gone.

She should have said something. Granted, it was unlikely that she would have been able to change his mind; it would have defied his very character almost to consider not fighting for his country. But it would have averted this feeling now: that "what if?" feeling. What if she had said something? What if she could have persuaded him to stay? What if she had lost him for good? What if? What if? It was all futile now. She realised that she was still standing stock still in front of the house. Blinking hard, she folded her arms around her waist and made for the servants' entrance.

She had coped with Gwen leaving. Better than she thought she would have anyway. It had been quiet in the evenings this week and even found she had missed the chattering in the evenings. Surprisingly, she had found herself sitting next to Miss O'Brien in the servants' hall when Mr Bates was nowhere to be found, the lady's maid recently seemed as quiet as Gwen was in absence. It wasn't the same as having her best friend to sit next to but it averted the feeling of isolation and on odd occasions, Anna had felt that the same sense of loss that she felt looming over herself ebbed from Miss O'Brien. But Gwen, she reminded herself, was working in an office and she would be able to visit her on her half days. Mr Bates was going to fight in a war.

It sounded ridiculous, but she had found herself wondering if he knew what he was getting himself into. Yes, he knew much better than her what a war was like, but she couldn't help but feel as if he hadn't grasped that there would be no allowances for his condition. No obliging William to offer to do extra work to cover him. She was pretty sure it would be every man for himself but she wasn't sure if he entirely understood it. It had crossed her mind to say it to him as they stood there waiting for the car that morning. But no, it would only hurt him, only offend him. And that was the very opposite of what she wanted.

She descended the steps and let herself in through the back door. Her prayers that she would come across anyone went unanswered: Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes stood talking in the corridor outside his parlour. Seeing her approach, Mr Carson raised his head. Mrs Hughes turned to see who was there.

"Anna," the butler began, "Has Mr Bates departed?"

She nodded numbly, suddenly seized by the urge to wail loudly.

"And was everything... all right?" he asked.

Anna continued to nod as she felt her control slip.

"Yes," she replied, "Yes, everything was fine."

Tears slipped down her face: she couldn't help it.

"Anna...Anna... Have I said something?"

Mr Carson always looked hopeless at the sight of emotion that didn't stem from overwork. She knew he hadn't meant to upset her- far from it- but somehow he had managed it. Briefly she was him blink apologetically at her before she was engulfed by an entirely separate entity. Much to her surprise, she saw it was Mrs Hughes who had wrapped her arm tightly around her heaving shoulder. She silenced Mr Carson with a warning look and led Anna into the butler's pantry, sitting them both down on the settee. Anna only kept crying. Mrs Hughes arms still hugged her as she sobbed into the housekeeper's shoulder.

"Shh, it's all right."

The emotion emphasised the housekeeper's accent. Finally, Anna gulped to stop but Mrs Hughes didn't let go.

"I'm sorry," she apologised, "I shouldn't have taken up your time, Mrs Hughes."

To her surprise, the housekeeper shook her head firmly and as Anna sat up kept her hand on her shoulder.

"I think," she replied, "In the circumstances we can make allowances."

Anna sniffed heartily and accepted the handkerchief offered to her.

"Every now and then I think a good cry can be justly merited."

Still embarrassed at crying in front of Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes, Anna continued to straighten herself out, wiping her eyes. But something in the housekeeper's tone struck her; something mournful. Anna gave what could just about be counted as a half-smile.

"Things are never as bad as they seem," she told her, anxious that Mrs Hughes was about to give a similar performance to the one she had just given.

But the housekeeper only smiled humourlessly at her.

"I've heard her Ladyship say that too," she replied wryly, "And I think she's right for the most part. But that doesn't mean they don't still get pretty bad sometimes and that we should stop ourselves feeling when they do."

Anna was mildly shocked to hear this, it was the nearest she'd ever heard Mrs Hughes come to contradicting one of their employers. Unsure as to how she should respond, she gave another hearty sniff.

"Now, Mr Bates leaving must affect you more than most. Don't give me that wide-eyed look; it's quite clear to anyone with eyes how you feel about him, how you feel about each other. Evidently, Mr Carson has no eyes, he didn't mean to be tactless, he's just a bit clueless about this sort of thing. He is a man after all."

Anna managed a small smile at that.

"All you and- I would suppose- thousands of other girls like you can do is hope and pray that he gets back safely. And then you'll have the good sense to actually say things to each other... though why I'm encouraging you..."

The housekeeper looked as if she knew exactly what she was saying, but couldn't quite believe it. Not surprising, Anna thought, she herself could scarcely believe that Mrs Hughes was advocating for romance, after all the signs of strongly antagonising the concept she had previously given. It obviously showed in her face: Mrs Hughes smiled ruefully and said:

"Sometimes, there's a time and a place to say things, to feel things. Goodness knows, it must seem like I try to stop you sometimes, but even I draw the line somewhere. Sometimes things just have to be said."

Anna was quiet for a moment. Then:

"I love him. I do, I love him."

Mrs Hughes nodded grimly and simply said "I know".

Tears could have threatened to engulf her again but instead she just sat there, feeling numb again.

"And it must feel as if the world's ending at the moment," Mrs Hughes nodded, "Heaven only knows what I'd do if..."

"If what?" Anna was suddenly intrigued. It wasn't often that the housekeeper slipped up.

Mrs Hughes was looking as if she sorely regretted not keeping her tongue in closer check.

"Never you mind," she told her firmly, "I think it would be best if..."

"I know he didn't mean to upset me, Mrs Hughes. I'm sure he's not as hopeless as you say he is."

She didn't know what madness made her say it out loud: it was flippancy at it's most undiluted and Anna got the feeling that if she hadn't cried so recently, her ears would have been soundly boxed. But Mrs Hughes only looked at her shrewdly and seemed that it would be best not to go down that road. Still, she didn't deny it.

"I think we'd best get back to work," she told her, rising from the settee.

Anna got up too and followed her to the door.

**Thank you for all of your lovely reviews on my other fics, they are very very much appreciated. Please review this one if you have the time.**


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